


Part Of A Balanced Breakfast

by Rockinmuffin



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Gen, Gender-neutral Reader, Humor, POV Second Person, Post Pacifist Ending, Reader-Insert, Up to interpretation whether relationships are platonic or not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 09:08:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4954558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rockinmuffin/pseuds/Rockinmuffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You just want a bowl of cereal.  Papyrus has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part Of A Balanced Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many plans for these precious skellies. So many plans.

You wake up the same way you do every morning; to the frenzied vibrating melody of your cell phone’s alarm before you dart up in your bed in a frenzied panic and chuck it at the wall. Once the sleep clears from your mind, you drag yourself out of bed and check to make sure you’re phone isn’t broken. It looks a little worse for the wear but it still functions so all is still right with the world.

Yes, for all intents and purposes, it’s looking like it’s going to be another perfectly normal day.

Which is why you’re so startled when you trudge your way into the kitchen and find a tall, lanky skeleton furiously working up a storm at your stove.

As you stare at the scene before you, eyes still heavy with sleep, all you can manage is a flat, “ _What_.”

“Ah! Human, you’re awake!” Papyrus turns away from the stove to face you. He’s wearing a frilly _Kiss the Cook_ apron. You know it’s not yours because you don’t even own an apron which means that Papyrus came to your house with his own apron. Huh. “Did the enticing smells of my culinary masterpiece draw you from your slumber?”

You blink slowly. “How did you get in my house?”

Papyrus puts his hands on his hips, looking very proud of himself. “No puzzle is too difficult for The Great Papyrus to solve! Except maybe Junior Jumbles. When I saw there was no way in I simply made my own way!”

His eyes—or whatever the skeleton equivalent is—dart to the side. You follow his line of sight towards your now broken window and the shards of glass already swept into a neat pile on your floor.

You’re only mildly disconcerted by the fact that you can apparently sleep through someone breaking through your window. Mostly, you just make a mental note to tape Junior Jumble on the outside of all your windows from now on.

“Papyrus, not that I’m not happy to see you, but _why_ are you in my house at,” you glance down at your phone, “Seven in the morning?”

“To fix you breakfast.” He gestures down to his apron like it should be obvious and that it’s a perfectly normal thing to break into a friend’s house and commandeer their kitchen. “Human, did you get enough sleep? You’re acting kind of… slow.”

You’re distracted by the sound of bubbling liquid.

“Papyrus, what are you cooking?”

“Spaghetti!”

You raise an eyebrow. “For breakfast?”

“What else could you possibly want for breakfast?”

“Cereal.”

“WHAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!?!”

You wince. You need at least, like, _two_ cups of coffee to deal with this kind of excitement.

“How could you possibly choose cold, bland cereal over _my_ vastly superior plate of Papyrus-brand pasta perfection?!”

“S’good,” you shrug.

“But why start your day out with something _good_ ,” he scrunches his face up in a sneer, “When you can start it with something _great_?! And there’s nothing greater than a home-cooked meal from your cool friend The Great Papyrus!”

Something on the stove catches on fire behind him.

At your wide-eyed look of alarm, Papyrus turns around.

“Ah! The sauce is almost done cooking!”

You stare down at your phone in desperation. You’d text Sans for help but you don’t have his number. It’s probably just as well. You can’t imagine him replying with anything other than a pun and a winking emoticon.

Would it be overreacting to call 911?

Against your better judgment, you don’t call the emergency services, though you do put out the stove fire in spite of Papyrus’ protests that it’s not hot enough.

“Well, it’s not as good as it _could_ have been,” he says as he places a plate of steaming-hot spaghetti in front of you, “But a home-cooked meal from me is bound to be delicious no matter what! NYEH HEH HEH HEH!”

You stare down at the pasta like you’re staring down a Final Boss monster. You pick up the fork and your hand shakes. Through sheer determination, you slowly lift strands of limp noodles closer and closer to your mouth. Papyrus is watching you expectantly. You really don’t want to disappoint him. You also don’t want to put something in your mouth that smells only mildly better than Sans’ greasy ball of rolled-up sheets.

You’re so close to taking a bite, you swear you can feel it singe your taste buds. This is it. This is how your life will end. You’re going to die the way you lived; tired, dressed like a slob, and full of carbohydrates.

“Hey, what’s for breakfast?”

Papyrus raises his eye ridges. “Sans! When did you get here?”

You, on the other hand, don’t question how Sans so suddenly appeared at the table in the seat across from you. No need to look a gift horse in the mouth, even when that horse is a skeleton with a smarmy grin and possibly powers of teleportation.

“So,” Sans leers at your plate, “Spaghetti for breakfast, huh?”

“It’s part of a well-balanced human breakfast!” Papyrus helpfully supplies.

Sans nods his head. “It sure is cool of you to come over and cook for the human, bro.”

“Of course! I’m the epitome of cool!”

“Though it looks like it could use a little seasoning.” Sans picks up the salt shaker on the center of the table and holds it out to you. “Here. Take it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “On spaghetti?”

“You know what they say: carpe sodium.”

“ _Nobody_ says that.”

“Just trust me.”

For the second time today, you go against your baser instincts and trust Sans. You take the salt shaker from his hand and hold it over your pasta with the intent of only sprinkling a dash. Instead, the lid pops off and half of the shaker’s contents spill out onto your plate.

“Oops.” He flashes you a knowing smile. “How’d _that_ happen?”

“Sans, look what you’ve done!” Papyrus snatches the plate off the table, inspecting it carefully to see if it’s salvageable. “You ruined it! Now the human can’t sample the delicious meal I prepared for them!”

“Sorry, Papyrus. I didn’t mean to _assault_ your cooking.”

Papyrus scowls. “The only thing you’re assaulting right now is my patience.”

“Sorry,” Sans repeats, not sounding sorry at all. He side glances at you. “Looks like we’ll have to eat cereal for breakfast instead.”

“Fine,” Papyrus pouts, then turns to you. “Since you don’t get to enjoy my cooking, you’ll have to settle for the second best thing: a cereal chosen by me!”

Papyrus’ good mood seems to return to him as he dashes across the kitchen to enthusiastically raid your pantry. You watch as various pouches of instant ramen and boxes of macaroni and cheese get tossed across the room before turning your attention to Sans.

 _Thank you_ , you mouth to him.

His only response is a widening of his grin and a wink which could mean either, _No problem_ , or, _Your ass is indebted to me for the rest of your life_. You never really know with Sans.

You jump as a box of Kellogg’s brand Honey Smacks is slammed onto the center of the table.

“I’ve never heard of any of these strange human cereals before, so I picked the box that had the coolest dude on the front!”

You stare deeply into the eyes of the cardboard visage of Dig’em Frog and you can’t say you’re too surprised with his choice. When you turn back to Papyrus, he’s watching you expectantly. “Good choice,” you tell him with a thumbs-up and he beams in pride.

As you sit at your kitchen table, sharing a bowl of cereal with two skeletons, floor tiles littered with glass shards and packages of food, you realize today will not be the normal day you originally thought it was going to be. In fact, you find it very likely that you might not have another normal day for the rest of your life.

You take a bite of cereal and smile.


End file.
